I think Therefore I Am
by FreckledAdvocate
Summary: It's ironic how Shawn Hunter finds himself in the same position of his mentor; splattered across the pavement becasue of a motorcycle. But is is even more ironic that the last thing he wrote about before he fell was the fragility of life? A SA fic w/ gang
1. Chapter 1

_"..Just the thought of the fragility of life is what makes it so terrifying at times. One always feels a sense of security in one's own mind, but every time one is hurt, either physically or in the mind, the blow leaves gaping physiological wounds. The pain deflates this unreal sense of safety, the bubble every mind has around it that assures us we are safe and as long as we are thinking we are alive. That was Descartes view wasn't it? That 'I think therefore I am'. Which honestly is only true because we assume it to be. Any second life can be taken, a blow can be made in the mind that it can't recover from and that sense of safety recedes far inside ourselves where it lays forgotten. And all we are left with is fear in the face of an ever faltering reality." _

My hands shook as I hold the journal in my hands. Ironic. That these should be the last entry in my best friend's journal before the accident. Shawn was always fragile, Shawn was always hurt, he was always doubting reality to some degree, it was all written here before me on his piece of journal paper.

And I suppose that meant that his final verdict was that thought was what kept him safe. As long as he was thinking he was sure that he was alive - enduring. And what if Shawnie wasn't thinking anymore?

I put my face in my hands and let the tears pour unchecked down my face. Topanga was crying and holding my hand until she pulled me into a hug. I rubbed her back and she let me sob into her shoulder. We sat together in that hospital waiting room for hours, trying not to think of Shawn's last written words, probably scrawled down in a café just hours before. We sat murmuring things to each other that he was really going to be alright. He had to be. Our minds couldn't suffer the blow of losing Shawn. Our best friend. Oh Shawn.

As soon as we made it to New York City Shawn had sold his car. And in his usual fashion, he made a devastating and self-destructive decision when Angela's absence finally got to him on that emotional level I knew it would. But this time we all thought we'd (and he'd) gotten off easy. He hadn't spiraled out of control and he hadn't picked up drinking. He'd only bought a bike; a motorcycle, after selling his car. He said that it was a smart vehicle to get for such a city. But I know him, and this was his was of being risky, of obtaining that reckless abandon that made him forget the things he wanted to for a while.

He wanted to do something dangerous, because that's what he did when he was upset. And he missed Angela like crazy. But none of us could persuade him to get rid of the bike. It truly was his escape from the world. He loved that thing. He would take it for a ride at least every couple of days - leaving the city to just explore. But he always came home, and other than owning the damn thing he was still Shawn. So eventually we realized that it was a part of who he was, his buffer. He even took me out on it a couple of times and it was thrilling, fun, terrifying, but free. I saw why he liked it, and stopped downright hating the thing. Finally we all just accepted it, like when he'd gone away - he needed this, and he needed our support; so we gave it to him.

The longer he had it, the more we became accustomed to it. And the less dangerous it seemed. Until today. Today I was waiting on a street corner for my best friend, and I saw his motorcycle weave between cars as it came down the street. He was one block away, I could see him smiling at me through his helmet, just as he went under a traffic light one measly block away. And then BAM! It hit him.

A pickup truck, cutting through a red light. Plowed into my best friend at full speed, right in front of my own eyes. His bike skidded going directly sideways with the truck slamming Shawn's body into the small green Honda across the way. When I think about it now in the waiting room I can see his head smash into the windshield of the other car, and watch the remembered whiplash in my memory. But I don't know if that actually happened or my mind made it up later when I heard the EMT tell me about head trauma. At the time I was more concerned with his body; which crumpled into the car like a doll. It was awful, there was glass and blood everywhere, and I started screaming his name. The man in the truck had his face pressed in an airbag, but I didn't notice at the time. And the little woman in the green car came out shaking, she tried saying something to me, but it was all too much of a blur.

I don't remember if I called 911 or if someone else did. All I remember is running to Shawn, and seeing his closed eyes under that helmet, and seeing all that blood. His leg was bent in a strange way beneath him, and his arms were a bloody mess of jagged glass and his tattered leather jacket. But that wasn't the worst bit.

The worst bit, according to the men in the ambulance, was that he wouldn't wake up. The worst bit, was the head injury I didn't see, that Shawn may or may not have felt through his thick helmet that he always wore because we always made him.

I don't remember when or how Topanga had gotten here, but I knew that I needed someone to hold onto at that moment as I felt more fear than I ever had before. And so we waited for hours, to find out if Shawn, my best friend, my best man, and the only person other than my wife that I had in the whole world forever beside me; was still alive.

The man in the ambulance had given me his book, which had been in his jacket at the time. Shawn's journal that he was always scribbling something in. And usually I never read, unless he asked for my opinion. But I just had to read it now. And it's ironic that this should be his last entry. Because I doubt he knows better than me that the fragility of life is what makes it so terrifying. Especially when it's not your life you are terrified for…


	2. Chapter 2

It all started out just a normal night. I had a paper due for one of my classes, and Cory was studying for a test he had to take. We all lived in the same apartment building, Shawn right across the hall. Originally he was going to live with us, but he insisted that he needed his space, and we needed ours too. So he moved across the way, got a job and paid the rent for his own room. I knew that it was the fact that he needed his space, and a matter of pride. He owned that living space, for once it was his, paying for it with his own money, and that made him feel good. And that's where he was; at work.

He got off at 8:00, so Cory and I were going to meet him outside and walk to the deli together for a late dinner of sandwiches and maybe some of those honey roasted nuts from a street vendor. I hate them; they seem so dirty, but Cory and Shawn both think they're great. They're always insisting that if we ever do leave the city, they'll have to take one of those carts with us. Then we were going to go to Central Park while it was still light out and eat outside. I just wanted to proofread my paper one more time before we left, so I sent my husband ahead of me and said I'd meet the both of them out on the street.

Then I heard sirens. But the city is a very loud place where you very often hear sirens so I didn't think much of it. I grabbed my purse and headed outside. That's when I saw the commotion on the street. People were yelling and cars were honking more so then usual, and a crowd was gathered under a traffic light down the street. I scanned the crowd for either Cory or Shawn and got nervous when I didn't see them. So I ran toward the light with a sense of foreboding. Then my eyes got wide as I placed a hand over my mouth to stare at what I saw before me.

"Shawn! You're gonna be alright. C'mon buddy, don't do this to me, you're gonna be alright!" My husband was shouting at our lifeless friend who literally was lying splattered across the pavement. Cory was holding his hand and shaking it as if to coax Shawn to wake up. The gaping human sized dent in the green car, and the truck with a cracked windshield were enough for me to realize what had happened, even without noticing Shawn's signature motorcycle a few feet away, parts of it twisted and cracked pathetically.

"Shawn!" I screamed, throwing myself to to my knees next to my husband, who looked up at me with panic written across his face.

"He's gonna be alright! Topanga, tell me he's gonna alright!" Cory practically begged me, going to pieces right here in the street.

My heart broke into a thousand pieces right then. I placed one hand on his shoulder, rubbing it consolingly, and I placed the other in their hands, so that the two of us were holding onto Shawn's limp hand. Then I looked in Cory's eyes and whispered the words I desperately wanted to believe, "Cory, He's going to be fine." And then I think I burst into tears.

Cory rode with the ambulance, and I grabbed the keys to Cory's and my car and rode behind, my hands shaking on the wheel. I looked down at them at one point trying to take deep breathes and remain calm. that's when I noticed the blood on my left hand - the one that had just been holding Shawn's. The blood wasn't mine. My stomache turned painfully. And that's how we wound up here.

For hours we sat just waiting. Cory was a mess, sobbing with abandon and unable to form even minimally coherent sentences. I talked to him, but I doubt he heard a word I said, and he had this sickening look of fear in his eyes. At one point I went to the lobby and I called Eric. Eric lived in our building, and was wondering where we all were.

"An accident?! Well is he alright?" Eric had said immediately on his end of the phone and bringing fresh tears to my eyes.

" Well, we just don't know. I'll give you a call when we know more."

"Do you want me to call anyone? The family back home?"

I shook my head, before deftly realizing Eric couldn't see my negative gesture and stumbling over my words, "No.. that's, that's ok. Once we find out more if you wouldn't m-mind calling around.. but first let's find out what to tell them."

"Alright Topanga." Eric said after a second soothingly, "Look, he's gonna be fine, alright? Hunter's a fighter, he'll be fine. Just take a deep breathe and calm down. I won't call anyone but I'll be there soon."

I sniffled praying that he was right. It was unnerving to hear him so uncharacteristically serious, his voice wasn't light and happy and a second away from cracking a joke or some air headed comment. I almost wished he would. Then I took his advice, and took a deep breath and managed a more coherent response of "Ok. See you in a few."

Just as I made it back to the waiting room the doctor walked in, looking down at a clipboard in his hands. "Family of Shawn Hunter?" The doctor asked, looking around the room at all the faces of numerous families awaiting information of their loved ones. Cory got up and I immediately interlocked my arm with his taking his hand. The doctor had a somber look on his face as we walked over.

"Alright, well, I won't lie- he's in pretty bad condition. His left leg in broken in three places, and we had to place a pin in to hold the remaining bone intact. Three of his ribs on his right side were snapped, and one on his left. The three on his right punctured his lung. But we managed to fix that and he'll only be on a breathing tube for a few days. His right wrist is sprained, and both his arms are heavily bandaged due to the cuts from the glass. Only one or two were deep enough to require stitches. However on top of all that. Shawn seems to have suffered a massive concussion. We've run an MRI, …and it seems that he's in a coma."

Cory's arms tightened themselves around me out of fear. The doctor continued, with a look of remorse on his face. "Unfotunately, we can't determine how bad the brain damage might be, if there is any at all," he added probably registering both Cory's and my faces, "-until he wakes up. But we don't know when that will be," he paused, " and honestly, if it will ever happen at all. We've had a few patients like this, and some have made it out fine, some with a significant amount of brain damage, and some…some have never woken up." Cory began hyperventilating next to me, I stroked his hip with my thumb as he held my shoulder tightly.

"I will tell you one thing though; the sooner he wakes up, the better a chance he'll have. We did the best we could."

"Thank-you." I choked out with a weak voice but Cory cut me off, "Can we see him?"

The doctor nodded, "Yes, he's just been moved into a more permanent room, you can see him now if you like. Follow me."

And with that Cory and I supported each other down the hospital corridors, until the doctor stopped in front of a closed door that read "715". He gestured to the closed door and said, "He's right in here." Then nodded condolingly and walked away back the way we came scribbling something down on his clipboard.

Cory stood paralyzed before the door.

"Cory?" I asked tentatively.

"Hmm?" He responded, I could hear the fear.

"We have to go in." I said softly. He had no reaction. I sighed, then turned the handle of the door. Then he grabbed my hand in need and we walked in together to see our friend.

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a/n : Hey, I hope you like so far. Please review to let me know how I'm doing and how I can make my writing better. Gosh, Shawn is just my absolute favorite and I can just see this happening to him. A little bit of Shawn-whumpage never hurt anyone... you know, except the fictional Shawn. =P. Well please review I already have the next two chaps written, and you get to see Angela's reaction next. Again, please review - and thanks for reading =). -FA


	3. Chapter 3

I glared at the phone in my room as if it were offending me in some way. And, in a superficial kind of way, it was. After all, I was thousands of miles away on another continent, and it had been three whole days since my boyfriend had called me. I had called his apartment and left a message saying to call me back. Usually Shawn can't go more than 12 hours without calling me, and the few times I've called him and he hadn't been there to take the call he'd called back within an hour - rushing a cute apology when I'd already forgiven him. But now it had been three days and I was starting to get angry.

I needed to hear his voice. I missed him. How dare he deny me that pleasure I only got from my once a day calls to him. I loved it here in Europe but everything I saw made me think of him, and I yearned to feel him in my arms, his touch, his kiss. I smiled absent-mindedly, then frowned and sighed as reality set in and I realized it would be months until I had that pleasure again; and in the meantime he wouldn't even let me have the gift of his voice?! _The nerve!_

Just then the phone rang. I'd been wanting it to so bad that I jumped, not actually expecting my hope to come through. But then I picked it up on first ring scrambling, a grin already on my face in anticipation of his glorious voice.

_Shawn. _A happy sigh. "Hello?"

"Angela?"

...That wasn't Shawn... The grin fell off my face like a plate being dropped to the floor. If I weren't holding the phone I would have crossed my arms in annoyance.

"Topanga, is that you? Hey girl, what's going on?" I feigned a cheerfulness to talk to my best friend - it wasn't her fault she didn't have the voice I wanted to hear, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Angela, I have some really bad news." My heart plummeted in my chest, she sounded strained. Annoyance was forgotten, now I felt a quiet nagging fear.

"…What's going on?" I asked tentatively.

"It's Shawn; he was in an accident two days ago… he…he's in a coma."

The quiet fear erupted in my chest, and I pulled a hand up to my mouth in horror. I wanted to say something, anything, but reality was crashing down around me as denial began setting in.

"Angela?" Topanga asked concernedly after a few seconds. "Angela, are you still there?" I pulled the phone away from my face and stared at it, listening to Topanga's voice so far away, literally. Then I hung up the phone with renewed fury at the object, and sat on my floor, hugging my chest and hyperventilating for a few minutes more. A few hysterical calls later to my Daddy and to an airline company I was sitting on a plane, headed straight for New York.

I was in a weird state of multiple emotions. One of pure fear, and yet simultaneously - complete denial. It had been so long since I'd seen him, touched him. He was still only far away, he wasn't injured, just in America, too far for my reach. My hands shook and my eyes stared. A few people, mostly stewardesses, tried to make conversation, but I didn't hear a word they said and they walked away awkwardly faling to get any response. But I never cried, not a single tear, because my Shawn was fine. The man I loved, he was fine - just in America, and once I got there I would get off the plane and confide my fear in him. He would bark that lovable laugh of his and hug me close and murmur that I was silly, but how glad he is to have me back anyway. Then he would hold me in his arms while I cried in relief, and laughed at the same time, and we would kiss and all would be well.

He was waiting for me in the airport, I knew. But then, why were my hands shaking so bad? And why wasn't I sure?

I don't know how I made it to the hospital. I was still in shock that Shawn wasn't waiting for me at the gate, so I went out of it, and was surprised he wasn't waiting on the street, so I hailed a taxi. And surprised that he wasn't there when I got out of the taxi, and found myself outside a hospital that Daddy had given me the name of after he'd called Topanga back. So I went in.

I remember hugging Cory and Topanga, who both looked haggard and scared, but composed. They'd been there for days. Going home to shower and eat every so often. Then Eric hugged me too, and honestly I'd forgotten he was here in the city. They all whispered condolences I didn't understand. All said they were happy I was back but were sorry for the circumstances. But I was still confused, and angry. Because where was Shawn? He should've seen me by now, and what they said couldn't be true. He was my Shawn, my love, he had to be here safe and sound and waiting for my return. So where was he? I guess I said that last part aloud, because Topanga grabbed hold of my hand and said softly, " Room 715".

Then I looked about and realized we were in a hall and a closed door was behind me. It felt like a dream, where something appears out of nowhere only after someone makes a mention of it and voila, there it is. The door read the number "715" And so I went in, pushing through hastily so that I could prove that none of this was real. Shawn wouldn't be in here, and I could turn around and say, "Alright, he's not here, where is he?" And then I could really find him and yell at him for being late. So I entered.

And there he was. My man, my love - he was broken. He'd always been broken, but now the outside matched the turmoil he carried within. And it was awful, heart wrenching. Fear, hysteria. Suddenly with a huge tear in my chest I realized that I was awake, and I screamed Shawn's name, shrieking. And only then did I finally begin to sob. And here was the man I loved, who I had wanted to only see in person for the last several months. Whose voice had just been barely sufficient in sustaining my yearn for him, which ironically enough, was all I wanted from him now - his soft murmuring voice - to say he loved me and everything was going to be okay. And I'd cried because he was so far away and he couldn't hold me.

And here he was, right in front of me, and he still couldn't hold me while I cried. _Oh, Shawn_.

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A/n: This chapter is one of the reasons why I wrote this story. I love Angela and really wanted to see how she would react in this type of situation; and I think it would be something like this. Please review - by all means I'm not opposed to critiquing! And thanks for the reviews I've gotten already, they mean a lot. :) There's another one of Shawn's poems in the next chap, just a head's up. Thanks for reading! :) -FA 3


	4. Chapter 4

"_Being in pain is like watching a fire burn_

_It is all consuming_

_Everything is bent and twisted in the flame_

_But only for a moment_

_One single, burning, agonizing moment at a time_

_Then you either suffer another moment, or the pain dulls and you sense relief_

_Unless you suffer a nagging pain_

_An ache - a continuous murmur _

_Always there under the surface_

_Waiting beneath for an opportunity to consume_

_But only if you allow it that air to breathe _

_This kind of pain can only be held at bay one moment at a time_

_The inverse of physical pain, one moment of fighting prevention of feeling this way_

_As opposed to one moment of feeling pain and trying to cast it off as soon as possible_

_There are certain forces, two of them, that can keep a nagging persistent ache at bay_

_Two things that keep me breathing every day, drawing strength inward to my soul_

_Drawing the fuel away from the fire to make it smaller but never out completely_

_Two things that keep a sense of peace, that rarely recedes, _

_except in brief moments of weakness and all consumption._

_Hope and love. _

_Hope in a love I know exists, not existed, but is still existing_

_Hope in the love that will one day return and quench the fire forever_

_Put it out, and bring back life and flowers._

_If pain is an all-consuming fire than love is the sun_

_Radiant and giving life, where fire only takes away_

_The sun makes any fire seem less then consuming, weak, powerless_

_The sun is happiness and joy and hope that one day both will come about_

_And in the obtainable future, always there in the sky, just barely out of reach_

_Her script tantalizes me when I want to hold her hand_

_Her voice makes me yearn to kiss her sweet lips_

_And her picture…_

_It makes me want to hold her tight and never let go_

_And this is the fire, the pain, the burn_

_The realization that I can't. _

_Not yet._

_But then I need only look to the sky and see the sun, which has seen lives lived and gone and to which a year seems nothing_

_Untouchable, miniscule, a small step before a life of happiness._

_Hope and love. The sun. _

_The same sun her beautful eyes glint at, or had glinted at hours before, if only for a moment_

_I shan't let any fire consume me before she comes home_

_An ache, however persistent_

_is still nothing in the face of my glorious shining sun."_

I took a deep breathe, as I held the small black journal in my hands. I read the poem over again and again, until my hands were shaking persistently. Tears had been pouring down my face, but then I finally looked up, and I saw him. My Shawn. In that hospital bed. It had been three days since I'd first seen him, and we were all taking turns, shifts, so someone would be there when he woke up. He would wake up, he had to. But unlike the others, I never left. Only twice to eat and bathe when Topanga and Cory dragged me out, they made me sleep in their apartment, saying I needed rest. The doctors said his body was doing well. They'd taken the breathing tube out that afternoon. But he still wouldn't wake up. My Shawn.

I choked, placing a hand over my mouth. I shouldn't have read that poem. But I knew it was meant for me. He told me once that all his poems were meant for me. He said that sometimes they were directly about me, and other times they were just about life in general, or people; but everything he thought about in life related back to me. I was like "a screen on his window of observing his life - always there to filter things through". Over the phone he murmured that once to me in his introverted artistic way. Most people wouldn't see Shawn as much of an introvert, but I knew better, the things he was the most passionate for, he kept close to his heart and only let a select few see.

I wiped my eyes, refusing to give in to my nagging pain. My fear. I gingerly picked up his hand and brought it to my lips. Then I stroked it with my thumb the way he always stroked my hand, or my shoulder, or my cheek. I choked again, but fought with the inner turmoil, remembering his written words. I could keep this pain at bay. All I had to do to fight was have hope…and love. And we both knew our love would never go away. I squeezed his hand tighter, willing him to wake up. But he didn't. So I leaned down toward his face and kissed his unresponsive lips, whispering, "Shawn I'm here. I'm back. Wake up - p-please!"

Then I just couldn't fight any longer. The fear consumed me and I collapsed onto his heavily bandaged chest sobbing into his shoulder as if he would hear, or comfort me. But he didn't. He just lay, breathing in and out. What if he never woke up? All of us in conversation said that he would, but what if we were wrong? The doctors hadn't given us a straight answer about what his chances were of coming out of the coma, so our resolution that he would wake up was just an optimistic shot in the dark. What if we missed? There is a fine line between unfounded optimism and naiive stubborn denial. Just moments ago I grasped onto hope, but with thoughts like this, and the fact that he was totally unresponsive to me sobbing on tiop of him - made my strong hold on hope slacken. The aching pain of fear came rushing in, taking advantage of my less then whole resolve. The fire consumed me.

"_You said you wouldn't let any fire consume you before I came home. And now I'm here. Don't let this fire be any different!"_

I crawled up onto his bed against his chest and curled into a ball, just listening to his breathing and pretending he was just asleep. But even with my eyes closed I could smell the hospital smell and within moments someone was screaming down the hall with their own pain to deal with. The walls were thin and I couldn't escape into fantasy, because my mind never left the confines of hospital walls and harsh unfeeling reality. After a few minutes there was a soft knock at the door and I composed myself; sitting up moving to the chair and wiping my face, before managing a shaky, "Come in!" I grabbed onto hope again, my lifeline, ignorant optimistic bliss, forcing the nagging pain back down, but with it never going away. How could his words from days ago, before any of this had happened, perfectly describe what I was feeling now.? My Shawn, the geat poet, one of the many reasons why I love him. Tehre was a painful snag in my chest that I refused out of stubborness to ackowledge.

The door opened.

"Hey, anything changed?"

I shook my head, Cory sighed. "Yea. I figured."

He handed me a cup of coffee which I took without a word, then he sat down next to me and placed an arm over my shoulder. I leaned back into him automatically and he rubbed his hand up and down my arm soothingly.

"Angela, he's gonna be ok. Alright?"

I still didn't respond. I was too busy wishing his arms were Shawn's.

"Well, C'mon. Topanga's making me take you back to our place for a home cooked meal. And then for a nice bath and some sleep. Even if he wakes up, Eric'll be here and you'll be the first to know."

I nodded and he got up, offering me a hand, but I was too busy observing the hospital floor.

"…Well, c'mon then." Cory said awkwardly, not wanting to fight me, but I knew he wouldn't leave without me either.

I sighed and took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. I looked at Shawn my whole way out of the room. I felt like I was stuck in a dream, so surreal, a nightmare in the night. Cory kept his arm around me until we got to his car.

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Cory and I were both very worried about Angela. So I made sure that that day after classes, we would have a nice homemade meal for her and then I sent Cory out to bring her home. By the time the two of them walked in the door I had three nice steak dinners complete with mashed potatoes and green beans, waiting on the kitchen table.

"Hey!" I said with a smile, mustering up some fake cheerfulness. Neither Cory nor I felt up to entertaining, but we knew that Angela needed something more than despondent hospital surroundings for several straight days at a time.

I'd taken Eric up on his word and had him call the family. I'd called Angela myself purely because I thought she would rather hear it from me. But by now the whole Matthews clan had come and gone. Once they heard the news they insisted on coming down. Mrs. Matthews brought lots of home cooked meals that we could freeze, and Mr. Matthews said he was always here if we needed anything for Shawn at all. After all, he still considered him his fourth son. Even Morgan was surprisingly pleasant, it really made her sad to see Shawn, her practically adoptive brother whose stories were always ,"Better than her real brother's anyway" - in such a state.

And of course Mr. Feeny came down too, and while he couldn't stay, he'd left Shawn a gift of what he called, "Some fresh advice". It turned out to be an old notebook belonging to both Shawn and Cory, which contained some of Feeny's best quotes in class, and some of his absolute and hilarious worst. "Oh yes." He'd said, as they had all gathered in the closest Ramada Hotel when they'd all arrived on that first night, "I confiscated this thing way back when the boys were just starting to pull their first pranks and shenanigans. Fourth or fifth grade I think. I just found it recently and thought I'd give it to you and Mr. Hunter to look through once he wakes up." That was everyone's attitude. It wasn't spoken about but when it was, it was just assumed that he would wake up, he had to. No one would accept any other answer, so no other answer was said aloud. Making it shouted all the louder in each person's mind.

But while everyone else was trying to get lost down memory lane and taking the optimistic route, it was obvious who was looking directly at the elephant in the room. Angela had barely said a thing all night that first night everyone had been there and neither had Mr. Turner.

Yes, even the infamous Mr. Turner had come all the way out to NYC when he heard the news, and he was the only one who stayed longer than those first few days. We hadn't seen him around much for a while, it feels like we hadn't even seen him since our Junnior year, but when he heard Shawn got a bike he was nervous. Shawn had blown off quite a few letters and phone-calls from the older man, until like everyone else even Turner stopped trying, stopped nagging. When he heard about Shawn's accident he was completely distraught. He was another one like Angela, moping around barely saying a word.

I haven't told anyone, but I walked in on Mr. Turner that first night. He was the last one to leave Shawn's room, and I'd forgotten my jacket inside. I cracked the door open only to hear Mr. Turner sobbing quietly and whisper so only Shawn (And I) would hear, "Damnit Shawn, I told you that a bike was dangerous. But you never listened to me anyway, you never did, and you probably never will… But I heard what you said to me that day when I was in your position and you better hear me now - _Don't. You. Turn. Your. Back. On. Me. Yet. Hunter_. I'm still not done yelling at you." It was said so passionately, and threateningly, but with more love than I thought possible from someone who wasn't actually Shawn's father. But at that moment he might as well have been.

And then he'd placed a hand over his face and just stood there for a while, finally I walked away - giving him privacy and getting my coat the next day. He'd probably be there tonight while Angela was here, he said he was planning on staying in town for a while. However long Shawn needed him. I thought it was sweet, in a haunting kind of way.

Jack was coming home too. It had taken Eric a few days, but he finally got the news to Jack and Rachel out in Nigeria. They were both on their way back to the states. And Jack's step-dad had branched out and paid for a private room just like Jack had for Chet. Shawn would probably be mad at the charity, but if he ever got to yelling at Jack about it we'd all be so happy we wouldn't care what he had to say.

Cory had been getting better. He was calmer now that the waiting period had set in. He was still overly jumpy and nervous, but he was Cory again, my Cory, and I think I was again slowly becoming Topanga again. We weren't trying to act like a huge chunk of our lives _wasn't_ in a hospital bed not waking up, but we were till trying to live. And put on the best face we could, because we knew Angela needed it.

So I plastered a smile on my face when she walked through the door with my husband's arm around her. And it stayed there the whole evening, as I talked amiably with my husband, and occasionally she said something, but mostly she didn't. Until I told her that she was positively free to take a bath and then I'd set up the couch again for her.

But she shook her head, and my smile faltered. She wasn't going to demand we take her to the hospital again, was she?

"Angela. You really need a good night's sleep." I said reasonably. My hands were shaking. My brow was sweaty, I couldn't keep hold of the happy façade much longer, she really shouldn't make this more difficult.

"I know." She said quietly, staring at her fingers and fiddling with them during a pause, "I want to sleep in Shawn's apartment tonight." She said, looking up and making direct piercing eye contact for one of the first times tonight.

My stomach instantly did a back flip and I felt sick. She looked so unbelievably heartbroken. My heart broke for her. And just as I let the dam of emotions overflow me, unadulterated fear shook me to my bones that Shawn maybe wouldn't be ok, and I was pretending everything was fine for no reason; because it wasn't. Now I really felt sick.

"Please?" Angela asked, quietly. "I've been thinking about it all night and - I… I want to sleep in Shawn's bed. See his things... I want to go home."

Cory's face had fallen too, and when I looked into his eyes I saw the same fears and stirred up emotions reflecting back in his. Then he looked back to her and said solemnly, "Of course." With a horrible nod.

Within a few minutes he took our spare key to Shawn's room and walked Angela across the hall. He was going to show her the rooms and ask if she needed anything. I smiled sadly as they walked out the door, and as soon as it shut behind them I ran the bathroom and was violently sick.

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I like writing poetry, its kind of my thing - so I made this little one up for Shawn because it really seemed to be _him_. Hope you like, please review! -FA


	5. Chapter 5

Cory unlocked the door, swung it open and held it for me as I walked in. I looked around nervously, not really sure how I should feel. It was dark. Cory walked in behind me and slid his hand along the wall, finding the switch and turning the light on.

It was small, and cozy, and so very -Shawn. My breathing hitched a little bit. I was standing in a small living area. There was a comfortable looking arm chair along the wall, with a small standing table next to it. The chair was right next to the window and across from the television on the opposite side of the room. I say the other side - but it was really only about ten to fifteen feet away because this part of the apartment was so small. On the table were a few books, all his favorite poetry; and there was a forgotten coffee mug, empty, but unwashed and scuffing the small table where obviously no coaster had ever been. The fact that he ruined a perfectly good table should make me see a character flaw in him; but instead all I saw was an endearing imperfection.

On the other side of the armchair there was a bookcase. I immediately walked to that first, my eyes glancing over the filled shelves. A few shelves filled with books of more poetry. One toward the top had a stereo on it and all sorts of music. There was of course all of his classical music albums (which was most of the "music" shelf), but a few new ones. He'd taken to listening to a little R&B, I knew from our nightly phone conversations, and smiled when I saw an album he'd just been passionately describing to me recently by an artist newly discovered by my love named Bob Marley. I ran my fingers across that one knowing that he'd just touched it days before.

There were a few notebooks here and there, and there was half a shelf devoted to movies. Most of them were either international films, or, to my pleasure - horror. We loved watching horror films, both of us, especially together.

_"Oh come on. We already know he's gonna get killed."_

_"I don't know Shawn, theres almost always one or two survivors - I'm rooting for him - I like it when the scrawny shy kid makes it out alive. _

_"Well, there ya go! scrawny and shy - he's definately murdered!" _

_And then I'd snuggled tighter into his arms a bowl of popcorn between us, and he'd kissed the top of my head. But neither one of us had pried our eyes off the screen. I don't remember if scrawny kid lived or died. I'd started to doze on his shoulder that night by the end of the movie - and if I remember correctly he'd carried me to my bed, as we'd been in my dorm room._

And that was only a few months ago. I sighed, bringing myself back to keep examining the bookshelf.

There was a shelf of books, some classics, some good novels, a few I'd mentioned to him that I'd read. And naturally there were some study prep school books. As I searched through the rest of the shelves my eyes came to the bottom one on the floor which was oddly turned into a drawer. Puzzled, I knelt on the floor and opened it, only to gasp. Cory walked up behind me, and honestly until he did I'd forgotten he was still there.

"This is his "Angela" drawer." Cory said simply, "He'd said he wanted it to be separate part of the bookshelf, a "secret place to keep his heart.""

The drawer was filled with pictures of me, of us, of ones I'd sent him from Europe. There was a whole shoebox filled with my letters. And There was Vivaldi's four seasons on top of some pieces of paper, that I saw had some of his most emotional poetry. You can always tell when he writes with passion because his handwriting always gets harder to read. And this pile of various poems and writings were all scrawled messily, but still able to be read by me. Right in the corner of the drawer was a picture of us his arm around me and with me smiling - it was prom our senior year. This picture was framed, and under the glass in a little speech bubble was my handwriting cut out from one of my letters. It read, "Shawn Hunter, I love you forever and I always will." Also in the frame, at the bottom, was a paper cut out in the shape of a small heart with his scrawled writing, "And Angela Moore, I will always love you too." I picked it up gingerly, and felt my fingers brush paper on the back of the frame. I turned it over curiously and saw another small bit of paper held onto the back by scotch tape, with the words written very small (if writing could be whispered this would be it), "_Which is why I wish you would come home_."

I put a hand over my mouth, and felt the tears coming on, but tried to keep them at bay.

I looked up at Cory, who had put a hand on my back and I hadn't even noticed. "Is there a pen in here?" I asked him quietly.

"Yea, sure." he said, and walked over to the coffee table on the other side of the chair, he opened a drawer, hesitated a moment then got a pen out and tossed it to me.

I took it and leaned forward, placing the frame and paper on my knee. With my shaky hands I scrawled my words in a fashion like his, messy and passionate, _"I'm home now, and I'll never leave you again. But it's only home if you're here beside me."_ I heard Cory shutting the table drawer behind me but paid him no mind as I shut the "me" drawer and stood up, dabbing at my eyes and holding the picture to my chest like a life vest.

"You wanna show me to his bed?" I asked Cory still quietly. "Yea, this way." he said instantly, taking his hand out of his pocket and walking through the room to a door just past the tv. I noticed as I walked by that there was another small room, about the size of a nook, adjacent to the wall that the door was on. I stuck my head in to see a tiny kitchen with a microwave oven, a fridge, a few cabinets, a coffee-maker, and a sink. Then I followed Cory into the bedroom, which was the roomiest one of the place.

The bed was queen-sized, and was just right. After months of hotel bedding that was either pure springs or purely cushioned bedding (neither of which felt natural, or like home), I sat down on Shawn's bed to test it out. It sank a little but supported me too - like it had been slept in, and not by strangers who had had the room before me - but by him. His bedroom smelt of his cologne and I was lost in the bliss that he still used the same scent I remembered.

I laid back inhaling the smell and feeling his bed and pretending he was right there beside me, his arms around me, stroking my shoulders like he used to do. Cory shifted on his feet, and though I had my eyes closed I still heard him do it. So I got up placed the picture on a bedside table which had a lamp on it.

"Right - the closet is here" Cory said, opening a door. "And that is the bathroom there" he said, gesturing to another door. "I have no idea whether or not the man even owns clean towels, so if there's anything you need feel free to knock; any time of the night." He said with a hint at humor, but sincerity in the invitation at the same time.

I smiled at him genuinely, and he seemed relieved to see it. "Thanks Cory, I really appreciate all this."

"No problem." He said, "Really." returning a smile and tapping his pocket absent-mindedly. "Well, uh, I'm gonna get back…" he said pointing a thumb toward Topanga's direction. "You sure you're gonna be alright here?"

I nodded. It felt right, being here. The only thing that was missing was Shawn, I sighed internally, but made a show of smiling for Cory. It was easier to feign happiness here, I almost felt like Shawn would walk out of one of these doors at any time, because the place was so genuinely _him_.

"Ok." He said, and then Cory gave me a hug and began toward the door.

"Hey Core, wait." I said suddenly, a thought occurring to me. He'd opened the closet door before to reveal the turmoil within. I remembered when Shawn's whole room had been that messy, but there was something else in the closet that piqued my interest. A comfortable little doggy bed I remember Shawn telling me went unused, because the animal he'd bought it for always came up on the bed, or preferred pillows on the floor.

Cory turned back around immediately, concern on his face.

"Where's Little Cory?" I asked. Cory paused, then broke into a smirk and responded, "He's staying with Eric, he likes Eric's sheets better. But Lord knows he always comes to our place for a good piggy treat."

I giggled, happy that someone was caring for the pig. That pet meant the world to Shawn, and he told the most interesting stories about the little fella.

"Ok." I said, "That's good… Although…" Cory regarded me patiently, "If he ever wanted to come home, I wouldn't mind pig-sitting when I'm here. I mean, he'd be more comfortable here, and he is practically my family." Now it was his turn to laugh. "I'll talk to Eric in the morning..."

"ok." I said and we both smiled, somewhat genuinely. "Goodnight Angela."

"Goodnight Cory." I said and waved as he left the room and a few seconds later- the apartment.

I sighed observing all of Shawn's things and feeling utter jubilation. And then reality set back in and I grabbed a pillow clutching it to my chest as I realized that; here I was in my lover's apartment. And I'm more alone then I've been my whole life. And with that the tears began, and didn't stop until after I'd gotten ready for bed and drifted into a fitful sleep, too comfortable in his perfect, yet empty, bed.

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I opened the door to my apartment, then shut it and leaned back against it closing my eyes and sighing shakily. I'd just nearly had a hearty attack while showing Angela Shawn's apartment, and on top of the way I'd already felt about the uncomfortable situation, having my heart jump out of my chest wasn't helping.

"Cory, is that you?!" Topanga called from the other room.

"Yea." I said, opening my eyes. But she didn't come into our living room, so I walked in, intent on finding my wife. I found her in the bathroom with the door ajar.

I immediately knelt to the ground, concern for her welling up uncontrollably. "Oh, Honey. Not sick again..?" I asked, as she was sitting on the ground next to the toilet. She just nodded weakly, looking pale. She put her arms around me in a hug and allowed me to lift her to her feet. Then without being prompted I picked her up bridal style and carried her to our bedroom.

"Maybe we should take you to the doctor, you might be coming down with the flu or something…" I said. But she read the concern on my face and dismissed it.

"No. Cory, I'm fine, alright. I'm just a bit tightly strung by this whole situation. - And you didn't need to carry me, I'm perfectly fine to walk." She reprimanded me as I laid her on our bed and crawled on next to her.

I felt my eyebrow go up and she read the skepticism with a sigh.

"Really, Cory. Trust me… when my parents first told me they were going through their divorce, I couldn't keep anything down for a week or two. And you remember when we took the SAT's?"

"Yea. I didn't talk to you for a week because you had your head inside a book 24 hours a day." I said fondly, recalling the memory of my very frazzled Topanga at the age of sixteen. She'd been cute back then, but not nearly as beautiful as she was now. She smiled at my response and I addictively ran my fingers along her face.

"Yea that's because I didn't leave my room for that whole week except to pad to the bathroom and puke my nerves out." She finished bitterly.

"Why? You got over an 1800 and accepted to Yale!" I reminded her.

She shrugged and cuddled closer to me, laying on my chest and her arms around me like a child holding a teddy bear. "That's just always what happens when I get nervous or stressed out. And I'm both" Her tone turned darker, dropping the momentarily happy glint. "… Cory, I'm scared."

Her grip tightened around me and I felt my own stomach twist itself up.

"I know" I murmured, holding onto her too. "Me too." I kissed the top of her hair, anxiety tearing me apart as well.

"Oh my God! I nearly forgot!" she said suddenly wrenching herself out of my arms and sitting up in bed sending a panicked look in my direction.

"What?!" I said, my voice reflecting her panic, but most of my brain preoccupied by missing her presence in my arms.

"We have a problem. The ring! Shawn left the ring in his apartment! What if Angela finds it?! He was supposed to propose and she wasn't supposed to see it coming!! And what if…" She paused looking scared but I knew she had more to say so I didn't interrupt letting her continue. Her eyes looked scared as she stumbled through the words, "What if he never wakes up?"

Unintentional anger filled my gut. He would be fine. Why would she even suggest that when I knew Shawn would be fine?!

But I stopped myself from saying this aloud. Part of my mind knew she had a point. But that was the quiet whispering part. And I knew I wasn't mad at Topanga, just mad at that whispering doubting part of myself. So I screamed him down in my own head, instead of my beautiful wife. I missed the last part of Topanga's prattle, which she was monologue-ing at ninety miles an hour.

"If he doesn't than she'll have found the ring and be even more heartbroken knowing exactly what would have happened instead of what could have happened! And that would be awful! We have to stop her from finding that darn ring! I know it's in there, but was it in the dresser or the bedside table or the - "

"Cory!!" she yelled after a few seconds bringing me back into the conversation forcefully.

"What? Oh, right, sorry - the ring." I said uncertainly. I'd been staring off into space, trying to lasso my thoughts back in and away from the dangerous cliff of despair.

She looked furious, but I only smirked. "Don't worry about it I said." And she looked confused.

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_So yes, I am aware that the whole "Little Cory" business was a total tangent, but I was rewatching that episode the other day sand fell in love with Shawn all over again when he took in that pig. And you know he kept him, he made a reappearence once in season 6 i think. And I just really think that was a character they should have reused. The fact that Shawn owns an abandoned pig just makes me happy, and darnit - I miss the little fella too! So I wrote him in, hoe you don't mind. And just in case you have no idea what I'm talking about watch Season 3, episode 6 "This Little Piggy" on Youtube. And Little Cory's reappearence is in season 5 episode 12 "Raging Cory" but only for a one line joke reference. _

_I love that pig. :) _

_Hope ou enjoy the chap - please review, and sorry for how long it take to update, its finals week in school . Ugh. :(_


	6. Chapter 6

"Cory!"

I glared at my husband who didn't seem to realize how monumentally bad our situation could possibly become.

"What? Oh, right, sorry - the ring… Don't worry about it."

'_Don't worry about it?' How could I not worry about it!?!?! _If Angela found it her heart would be ripped out of her chest. I had a strange urge to hit Cory and knock that smug smirk off his face. He reached for his pocket.

And he pulled out a small box. A box I recognized. The ring!!!

I could feel my eyes go round in astonishment and I no longer felt the urge to be violent.

"The ring!! Cory - but how…?" I looked at him questioningly and he started answering before I'd finished the question.

"She asked for a pen in the table by his chair and when I opened the drawer I found this little thing here. Nearly had a heart attack too realizing what would happen if she saw. It's been burning a hole in my pocket since I picked it up." He paused and I opened my mouth to ask, but before I could he answered my unasked question shaking his head and reading my mind, "No. She never saw it."

I lay there gaping at him, speechless in shock.

"You're amazing. You know that?" I said teasingly, a grin spreading on my face. "Yeah, I know." He replied arrogantly with a cheesy smile.

I buried my face into his shoulder, giggling, my arms wrapping their way around his waist.

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The next morning I didn't wake up with the sun. Shawn's curtains were dark, and I slept straight through morning into the afternoon. When I finally woke up I was pleasantly disoriented. Reality hadn't sunk in yet and the only thing I was confused about was the time. For the first time in months I woke up knowing exactly where I was, and it felt right. I was home.

A bubbly happy feeling rose in my chest as I gazed around the room. I still had that subconscious notion that he would just walk through one of these doors in a moment. Maybe he'd come in with a tray of breakfast, a smile on his face, his hair bed-wrecked in that adorably cute unruly way. He'd be wearing a robe and my favorite red plaid pajama pants and he'd have the news paper under one arm. Then we'd eat breakfast in bed, me pressed up against his chest, two cups of coffee on the tray, sharing a waffle. He'd have one section of the paper and I'd have another. And things would be perfect.

I'd never even been in this room before yesterday, but just waking up this morning, I knew that that fantasy was how things should be in this room. It was right.

And then I remembered how very wrong I was. Shawn wasn't here. Shawn wouldn't be here for a very long time at least. The pleasant happy feeling vanished, leaving me how I'd mostly been recently; anxious, upset, and confused.

I looked at the clock and gasped. 12:17 P.M. - wow, I'd slept late! I need to get up and go visit before visiting hours close!

So I hopped out of bed and got changed, pulling clothes out of the suitcase that had been dragged into this room. On my way out the door I scanned the bookcase and pulled one off the shelf Shawn had been telling me about and I'd been meaning to read. Than after a quick hello to the Matthews residence, I was off to the hospital again.

On my way there however a thought occurred to me and on a whim I entered a store. I loved this apartment, and Shawn wouldn't be able to take care of it for a while. So I would for him.

It was a split second decision, but once I saw the "We're Hiring" sign of the restaurant I walked in, intent on getting a job. Topanga had been bugging me lately about what I would be doing. And although I wanted to, I know she was right when she said I couldn't just wait around for him to wake up. There were bills to pay and my life to live… even if it revolved around an unresponsive man in a hospital bed.

But a few minutes later I walked out a bit more down-hearted than usual. Knowing I would be starting as a waitress the next afternoon. It wasn't the best job but it was a job and I didn't intend to keep it long. Topanga had already told me that she called and talked to the dean of admissions and if I wanted to I could finish out my last two years of college in Fordham U with Cory and… and well Shawn, if… I winced, ignoring the doubt creeping through my gut.

Without even looking where I was walking I wound up right outside his room. 715... So I sighed and went in.

Every time I saw him he looked better, which made me feel worse. It was like he was tantalizing me, the rest of him getting better, except the one part of him I wanted the most - his mind.

I grabbed his hand, which was not bandaged today, and sat down in my usual chair. I stroked it sweetly and talked to him softly as I did every day.

"Hey Shawn. It's me. I love you. And I wish you would wake up. Please wake up…" But of course he didn't , and the beeping following his heartbeat ticked on unrelentingly. So I talked over it. I told him I'd gotten a job, and about how I would be going to his school just like in Penbrook. And I told him how much I liked the apartment, and the book I'd grabbed off the shelf. Then I told him how scared I was.

I didn't mean to get emotional on him, but when you have an out loud conversation that's one way all you can really do is spout what you're thinking, and all I ever thought about was him, and how scared I was.

"Shawn. I'm afraid. I'm afraid you're gonna leave me. And you promised you wouldn't but what if this is stronger than you. I love you because I know you never would voluntarily leave me, but I need you. I need you to wake up. Shawn please." And with that I leaned forward into an upright fetal position leaning my forehead onto his hand on the bed and crying - again.

"Please don't leave me." I said quietly, sobbing as I unleashed all my pent up fear. "Please."

Then after a few minutes I pulled myself together again and I apologized meekly. Feeling awkward as I still don't know if he can hear me. It had been over a week now and he wouldn't wake up. The doctor's were using words like MRI, and brain damage, and I just didn't know what to believe.

So I told him, "I believe you're gonna get better… Because if you don't, I don't know what I'll do. I'm sorry Shawn. I'm so sorry this happened, and I'm sorry that I'm freaking out on you right now… I'm just scared. And I wish you would wake up. Ok I'm gonna stop whining now, and try to read some of this book. I'll tell you if I think I like it; I know you did." And with that I wrapped up the sappy falling apart Angela moment and tried to make my stomach stop churning long enough to concentrate on the book.

It was actually a good book and I was really getting into it. But I kept yawning and my eyes kept dropping. Even with the ridiculously late morning, I still hadn't slept enough the last few days and I felt my eyes trying to stay shut every time I blinked. Finally I decided not to fight it and I drifted off to sleep in the reclining chair next to his bed, my hand still holding his. And I slept, pretending that I was home, in his bed, and the hand I was holding was indeed his - but he was only asleep next to me. It was a nice dream.


	7. Chapter 7

The weirdest feeling in the world is to hear everything that is going on around you, but have no thought about it. No opinion. No internal voice or commentary - just blank, silence. I heard every conversation, felt every touch, but did not respond. And now looking back I can recall things that I had heard, things that should have evoked some sort of emotion or feeling or _thought_. But I'd had nothing. Empty.

_I think therefore I am. But if I am not thinking, how could I be sure of my existence? _

That was the first conscious babble of thoughts that I remember having, and then that thought evoked within me a sense of fear. The first emotion. _What if I didn't exist? Or rather, don't exist. Is this death? But wait, I am thinking now even if I wasn't before. Am I still dead?_

And with that a steady beeping that had forever been beating beside me at a constant pace, picked up. It got faster and I could feel the adrenaline flow through my veins. Hey wait, I could feel that? So I have to be alive then, right? Well, I have veins… And last time I checked, spirits that were moving on didn't have veins.

I took a mental inventory. Gently acknowledging the aches and pains in my body. Well, my head hurt really badly (_so I have a head and it hurts and I am aware that it is hurting, so I can't be dead, right?_). And there was a great pressure on one of my legs, which might have been elevated; it felt kind of funny. I couldn't move my left hand, there was something blocking it. Although in the same hand there was some warm pressure on my fingers. And both my arms were wrapped in what felt like cardboard or paper. The inside of my right elbow felt strange, like I shouldn't move it, like it was on a wire. And my chest seemed to be on fire. The whole thing (my chest) was wrapped up like a Christmas gift and it just hurt. It was tender and sore. And breathing was like fire too. I coughed, and the pain exploded leaving me to watch stars beneath my closed lids.

_Didn't I notice any of this before? _I hadn't thought about it until then.

So I was banged up pretty bad. The beeping got louder and faster again, and I opened my eyes, surprising myself by being able to. I'd forgotten that I could open my eyes, but now that I had, I thought it was silly that I'd forgotten. I'd always been able to see.

It was so bright, I automatically started squinting my eyes. It was _too_ bright in here. I was in a hospital room, in a hospital bed. I didn't consciously think about who I was or why I was there. It just hadn't occurred to me yet, my mind was still moving pretty slow. I blearily looked around the room, and saw all the machines. The one that was beeping persistently was connected to a finger, keeping my pulse. So that's why it had sped up when I thought I was dead; my heartbeat had increased.

And then I noticed her. The girl, asleep in the chair next to me. She was holding my hand (the warm pressure on my fingers), and I remembered her voice. "_Shawn. It's me. I love you. And I wish you would wake up. Please wake up_." She had definitely said that to me just a few minutes before, and I hadn't responded at the time. But I did now. I held her hand tighter.

I didn't try to remember who she was, the only conscious thought I had was a vague, _That's funny. I didn't know that Angels could sleep…_

And then a counter thought replied obnoxiously in the depths of my brain, _Well, you _did_ get hit by a truck in New York City! Obviously _some_ angel was asleep on duty!_

And it slowly dawned on me as I accepted the thought as truth, _Oh yea, I _did_ get hit by a truck, didn't I?… _But I had no memory of it, I just knew that it was true. Then I closed my eyes and saw a bright green truck, a screeching of brakes and the man behind the wheel who's piercing brown eyes shown pure panic. Then I was here…

I opened my eyes again coming out of the flashback and grasped the girl's hand tighter. I wish I knew who she was, or what was happening. I tried to say something, I don't remember what, but as soon as any sound came out of my mouth I was coughing. It felt like the sides of my throat were coated in acid, and I'd just scraped a fork across them. _Note to self; talking = pain. _If my arms had been movable I would have grabbed my throat in pain. But as it happens my left one was in a splint and in the angel's hand, and my right one was attached to an I.V. _Huh, so that's the wire I felt before. Who knew? _

My eyes began to tear up in blind pain, but gradually the coughing died down. Then all I felt was the scratchy pain I'd felt before, and the odd sense of relief that the pain had numbed down a bit.

After my coughing attack, my eyes starting to drop shut again and I realized how tired I really was. I really wanted to sleep. I was too groggy, my mind moving too slow. So without thinking I closed my eyes and let sleep take me, quietly hoping I'd wake up again. I needed to find out her name.

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"Miss Moore?" I opened my eyes blurrily to see a nurse sanding before me, a hand on my shoulder. She was gently shaking me awake. I checked the clock on the wall; 9 o'clock. I sighed.

"I'm afraid it's time to leave. You can come back first thing tomorrow though. I'm sorry, rules are rules." She really did look apologetic too.

I wiped the sleep out of my eyes feeling disappointed. I'd come to visit Shawn and I wound up sleeping the whole time. I looked down and realized his hand was still in mine. I wished I never had to let go. "Alright. I know the drill."

I collected my things then brought Shawn's hand to my lips, kissing it. I then kissed his forehead as well. If I didn't know better, I would have said he was smiling at least a little bit. "Bye Shawn. I love you." I whispered. Then started walking out of the room.

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I heard the nurse tell her she had to go, and once again I was actually awake! I had thought again, that was good. And I was so happy, preoccupied by the fact that I could think again. It was a relief, not to be under water anymore, just listening in silence without any internal input at all. I was awake! I smiled. But I didn't process what was being said because I was so distracted by my reacquired ability to think.

Until she let go of my hand, the angel. Then I realized what was being said. My hand opened and shut a few times, searching for her warmth. Then I found it. Her hand was in mine again, and I felt her raise it up and kiss it with her lips. I smiled happily. Then she kissed my forehead too and said such tragic words, "Bye Shawn."

My brow furrowed as the contentment left my face. _NO! She can't leave me! Where is she going? Why are they taking her?! _

I tried to speak again in vain, but my throat was on fire still. But I couldn't give up, I couldn't let the angel leave without a fight! I pushed past all the pain and I managed with an almighty groan to push out a few syllables. Just barely managing to say, _"NO! Bad things happen when the angel leaves!"_

The words were extremely raspy and sounded like they came from a ninety year old man who'd smoked for 85 years - but they came out. And then I was coughing, hacking out the acid. Probably dying, with those being my last words. There was silence in the room, other than my incessant hacking. _Had they disappeared? Was this a dream?_ _Had I died? _Once again I was forgetting that I could open my eyes. So I just kept opening and shutting my hand, searching for warmth and hoping it wasn't too late. The hand not in a splint was over my mouth, trying to abate the explosion from my throat. The beeping following my heart beat went wild in fear.

Then her voice, her beautiful beautiful voice, "Did he just…?" So quiet. I wanted to say yes. But I couldn't talk anymore yet. I was still painfully coughing over the last sentence I'd said, But I nodded my head 'yes'.

"Shawn? You're awake!?!" She shouted. Happier now, excited. I wished I could stop coughing, could be happy with her, but I nodded again.

Then I heard the nurse in the corner, probably on an intercom, "Can I have Doctor Kale in Room 715. Dr. Kale to Room 715 please." And then the Angel took my hand. "Shawn. You're awake. Oh God, you're awake!!" I think she was sobbing. I wanted to hold her in my arms. If angels shouldn't sleep, they certainly shouldn't cry. But I was only now starting to be able to take shallow breathes without my lungs attacking me. Seriously, I think they were on fire, if I could speak I'd ask someone to put them out.

"Shawn" And then I felt her take my face in both of her hands, "Shawn, look at me, please?" _Oh yea, I can see. _She had asked so sweetly, quietly, a whisper just above my face.

And then I opened my eyes. And I was looking into hers. Her beautiful chocolate brown eyes, red with tears, and a hysterical grin on her face.

She started to laugh-sob as she stroked my face. "Shawn." She murmured. "Oh God Shawn. I've missed you." And I wanted to say I missed her too, and hold her forever. But I wasn't about to speak again. I think my eyes filled up with tears too. Then she kissed every inch of my face; my nose my cheeks and finally, my lips. And she held my head as she gently kissed me, so as not to hurt me. But it was the most comforting kiss in the world. "I love you." She whispered. And I opened my mouth, mouthing the words back without straining my vocal cords. My hand carefully moved up my chest pointing from me to her as I mouthed back at her, "_I love you too. I love you too._". Then she collapsed onto my bandaged chest, laughing and crying in relief. My arms folded around her and even though my whole body ached and I was barely able to breathe, all was right in the world.

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The doctor needed to speak with Shawn. So I excused myself to call my friends. I was shaking and barely able to get my phone out of my pockets, never mind dial to make the call. I couldn't stop crying, and I knew I must have looked ridiculous, but I was just so relieved. He'd woken up. The love of my life, the doctor's had been saying he might never open his eyes again, but he had. He'd woken up! And he'd said, "I love you too!"

I placed a hand over my mouth and sat down in a hospital chair in the waiting room, sobbing and laughing, and not really knowing what to feel. I think overwhelmed works for this situation.

I'd just been so afraid, that I didn't want to have hope. And now as I cried and was unable to dial Cory's number on my phone, I realized I'd been hoping all along. And he'd pulled through. He woke up!

He'd sounded so raspy, and just saying one sentence had thrown him into a coughing fit, but he'd spoke. What had he said?

"_NO! Bad things happen when the angel leaves!"_

I put my head between my legs as my heart broke a little bit at the memory. It was a reminder of all the pain I'd caused. I took a few deep breathes unsuccessfully trying to regain control.

My cell phone rang in my hands and I jumped. Cory's name lit up the screen as the ring tone played on. I picked it up immediately, wiping my eyes and trying to control my voice. "Cory…" I sniffled a bit.

"Hey Ang. We're here to pick you up if you're ready to -"

But I cut him off with my stern, _"Angela is serious"_ tone of voice; "Cory! Get inside, _now,_ bring Topanga! Come in, now!"

"What? Why? He hasn't… - Now?"

"Right now!" I stressed, holding onto the phone like a lifeline.

There was a silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then Cory said in a panicked voice to Topanga, "She says we have to come in, _right now_. Alright Angela, on our way."

Cory was using his, I'm in a rush voice, and suddenly I realized how it must have sounded to him. I wanted to explain but he'd already hung up, and he was coming in anyway. I imagined him finding a place to park at ninety miles an hour, Cory tended to do reckless things when he was worried, especially about Shawn.

Not three minutes later (despite the fact that this ward was ten stories up and the elevators don't move very fast), both Cory and Topanga were literally running toward me down the hall. Tears were still running down my face and I'd given up trying to make them stop. I stood up and Cory grabbed onto my arms just as he drew to a halt, looking over my shoulder at the door to Shawn's room.

"Oh God Angela. What's wrong? What happened? Is he - did he-?" Cory couldn't even form the words he was fearing most. Topanga had a hand on Cory's back, staring at me with pure fear in her eyes.

"He woke up!" I stated, my voice breaking. I sniffled.

Cory's head snapped from the door to my eyes in confusion. Topanga's face was one of surprise. "What?" He said, "Did you just say -?" He let his question hang in the air, tilting his head and squinting his eyes in trademark Cory fashion.

I nodded, and sobbed again, my face bursting into a grin. "He woke up! Cory, Topanga, he woke up! He woke up! HE WOKE UP!"

Topanga got it first. She put a hand over her mouth and squealed in excitement. Cory was longer on the uptake. He hadn't cracked a grin until my second, "HE woke -" But when he got it his face became more elated then a little kid on Christmas. "He woke -" He said slowly, as if not believing his own words. "Oh God! Angela!"

And with that Cory grabbed me and lifted me into the air, spinning me around in a hug. He was laughing ecstatically, and I think I even heard him dry-sob. But unlike me he didn't cry.

"He woke up!" Cory said placing me back down, all of us were laughing. "Topanga he - "Cory said, turning to his wife. She finished for him, her own manic smile on her lips, " - woke up!" And then he threw his arms around her and they hugged and it was sweet. Then both of them had grabbed me and we were in a group hug out in the hall, laughing like maniacs. But we didn't care.

Shawn was awake! He woke up...

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_A/N: hiya! :) Yea, so it only took 7 chapters and alot of angst but he woke up! I didn't thik i could take anymore, this reason was the whole reason why I wrote this story. Please review. -FA_


	8. Chapter 8

"The family of Shawn Hunter?"

I raised my face from the cluster of heads and hair to make eye contact with the doctor. I didn't know who was crying or who was laughing; all I knew was that I still had both Topanga and Angela in my arms and we'd been holding onto each other for dear life in the hospital's hallway outside my best friend's room. In an instant reaction we all broke out of the hug to face the doctor but my arms stayed firmly around both girls' shoulders, my wife on my right, and Angela on my left.

"Yes sir. That's us." I answered the man in the white coat. I couldn't keep the smile off of my face.

"Well, I'm not going to lie to you" he started with a serious expression on his face. I felt Angela tense next to me; I gripped her shoulder tighter.

"We, that is to say the rest of the team of doctors and I, didn't think Shawn would be able to pull himself out of this coma." Then he smiled good naturedly and I felt Angela relax, "But it seems your faith was not been misplaced. AS I'm sure you're already aware Mr. Hunter just woke up."

It was strange how the words "_Mr. Hunter_" set off an instant vision of Mr. Feeny in my mind. This Doctor Kale was kind of old and smiled at us in a wise kind of way, just like Feeny. Huh.

"Now I do have to warn you. He is not out of the woods yet. I just looked him over, and I think it is safe to assure you he is on his way. But some patients never fully recover. Mr. Hunter has suffered memory loss and possibly brain damage. Now, for some patients memory is easily re-attained, for others, memories are lost forever. I'm not really sure how extensive the memory loss may be yet and I have Shawn scheduled for some tests to find out. In the mean time, I would ask you all to go in and visit him - but one at a time. We don't want to overwhelm him. And be warned" His tone and his expression turned serious again. This is a man trained in delivering bad news. I wonder if he likes his job when he has to act as the devil's messenger.

"He may or may not remember who you are." He paused as if waiting for a response, but all of us were speechless. I wasn't smiling any more. _Shawnie might not remember me? _

His tone softened again, "I know this must be scary. But its still good news. You have your friend back. It just might take him a bit to remember who that is. Who would like to see Mr. Hunter first?"

My first selfish thought was that it should be me. But then I lowered my gaze to Angela's eyes. Her deep brown eyes were shining with pure fear and I thought about how I would feel if it were Topanga maybe not remembering who I was and I just nodded to her solemnly. She blinked once then stepped forward out of my arms.

"I will." She replied quietly. Dr. Kale nodded then opened the door to Room 715. Angela looked back to us once before walking in. shut the door after them both.

As soon as the door was shut Topanga looked up at me and smiled tentatively. I smiled back. God, this roller coaster of emotions was making me dizzy.

"Cory?" She said, keeping eye contact with me.

"Yea?"

"Shawn woke up." I smiled broadly and she smiled back.

"I know."

"That means you have your best man back."

"I know."

"You realize what that means?" It took me a minute for my brain to jump back into action and then I burst into a carefree laugh. A burden of happiness I'd been carrying around guiltily exploded in my chest as I realized I was allowed to feel happy again.

"Yea. I know."

"We should see how much he remembers."

I grabbed Topanga and held her in my arms, both of us giddy on relief and excitement. Then I brought my head down to hers closed my eyes as our lips met.

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The longer the doctor talked to us the more nervous I got. _My Shawn was awake. Why was he bringing us down? He might not remember me? What if he doesn't know who I am? _Finally when he asked who should see him first I was petrified.

I looked into Cory's eyes and saw the brief second of determination. I almost hoped he would throw his hand in the air and go first. But he didn't. The almost jealous barrier in his eyes dropped away immediately and he nodded to me.

My knees started shaking, but I knew what I had to do. So I stepped forward. Looked over my shoulder once uneasily, then proceeded into the room with Dr. Kale.

As soon as I was in the room all fear melted away. All thought was replaced by one thing and one thing only. His face.

Shawn's face. He was smiling. And he put his hand up in greeting.

A torrent of emotion burst thought my chest. I was still mentally preparing myself to see him asleep like he'd been every other time. "Shawn?" I said timidly, not able to keep the wide smile off my face. He nodded.

Dr. Kale took a step forward. "Shawn can't really _talk_ right now. Because the breathing tube was only taken out a few days ago and its been so many days since he exercised any of his voice muscles, it will be exceedingly difficult for him to talk for at least a few days. If you walk over to him he can write on the legal pad I gave him a few minutes ago. He knows who he is and what happened but other than that things are a little foggy."

Shawn nodded again, the smile never letting off his face, he just stared at me and I could tell from his gaze that he wanted me to walk over.

I walked to his bedside and sat in the chair I'd been practically living in for over a week now, trying to not become an emotional mess.

"Shawn. Do you remember who I am?"

He looked into my eyes so passionately and I felt my eyes water up. God, I'd missed those brilliant blue spheres. He dropped the pen into his lap and took my hand stroking it with his thumb just like he always used to do whenever he held any part of me. I put my other hand over my mouth and he let go in order to pick up the pen and scrawl onto the page

_You're the angel that was in my room when I woke up. _

My heart sank. So he didn't remember me.

"But do you remember who I am? From before the accident? Do you know my name?" My voice broke. Oh look, that fear I lost before when I walked in - I think I found it.

He stared at me with such an intensity. The smile that had been there since I walked in started to falter a little bit. I could tell he was really concentrating, trying hard. Finally the smile fell completely off his face and an apologetic look that nearly broke my heart again replaced it. He wrote again.

_No, I don't. _

He looked up at me devastated. Then scribbled very fast, two words.

_Remind me. _

I was taken aback. Then it was my turn to take his hand and stroke it. If this is scary for me then I imagined how it must be for him. Not to remember who you are.

"Shawn. I'm Angela. We've been dating since high school. We went to college together, and almost wound up not being together. But you wouldn't let me shut you out. And its because of you that I found the man I love." I smiled at him. "We promised we would never leave each other…and I…" My voice died right here and Shawn looked at me curiously. He closed his eyes for a few seconds then shook his head no, and I stopped. He wrote something down and tapped the page impatiently.

_Europe doesn't count. Don't feel guilty. I told you to go. I know you never really left me. We were just a bit far apart geographically for a while. _

I gaped at him, and he regarded me uneasily when I didn't continue. He looked from my face to the paper and back again.

_What? _He wrote, raising an eyebrow. I could see the uneasiness I remembered so well playing across his face.

"You remember!!?!" I practically shouted at him.

He tilted his head to the side, then realized what I'd meant and what he'd written. I could see the comprehension, as well as the confusion.

_Whoa. Yeah. I do. Of course I do. You're Angela. I'm in love with you. But I didn't remember that until you started talking… _

We just looked at each other in awe.

_How did we meet? Tell me more._

I read the question and smiled.

"Well, we met back in high school when I joined John Adams High. You were the class man-whore who didn't date girls for more than two weeks at a time. But that was okay because I'd never had a real relationship either. But then you decided that you really liked me and wanted to try a real relationship. It took you a little convincing, but soon we were both hopelessly in love."

The grin was back on his face and he nodded very animatedly, then began scribbling excitedly.

_The purse girl!! Yea! I remember! You're the one that got me into classical music, and poetry. Poetry! I'm a poet? Yea, I remember writing. Always about you. And coffee on the floor with a giant dog. Kissing you. I remember kissing you, all the time. And that day I went to your apartment, and you cried and said you loved me because both our mothers left and you didn't want to hurt me. And the other two! Who were the other two, a girl and a boy? I remember them, but I don't remember names. Who are they?!?_

I started laughing_. _He was so excited. And I was excited too. He remembered. He knew me. He loved me, and he knew me. I was so relieved. I grabbed his face and I kissed him. His eyes shut and he threw the pen down passionately, his lips immediately making out with mine. Just like we used to. He was back. I moaned in concentrated happiness into his mouth.

Finally I came up for air, and his eyes were still closed, his face happy.

"Cory and Topanga, our best friends. That's who the other two are. Cory's been your best friend since you were four and Topanga is his wife." I could see the pieces clicking in his brain and he excitedly began scribbling things down again. But I honestly didn't care what he had to say, I just leaned back in and kissed him. Again and again.

As soon as my face started toward him the pen lay forgotten on the bed sheets. Conversation interrupted mid-sentence as proved on the yellow page. But neither one of us cared.

We had a lot of catching up to do.

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_A.N. : So I'm really glad I got to update tonight because i'm kind of going on vacation in about an hour. So I don't know when I'll be able to upddate next, hopefully soon. The story's not quite over yet. But i woke him up - whoo! Please please please review. :) -FA_


	9. Chapter 9

It had been twenty minutes since Dr. Kale had disappeared with a scared looking Angela into Room 715. In the meantime Cory and I had been discussing all the possibilities. _What if Shawn remembered? What if he didn't? What should we tell him if he doesn't? What should we tell him if he does? _But after we'd solidified our thoughts into agreeable terms we'd both fallen silent, waiting to see what would await us inside the door. I was sitting in a chair, Cory was pacing up and down. The clock across from me said twenty minutes, but it felt like much longer - hours at the very least, maybe the clock was broken. I glanced at my watch. It read the same time as the clock.

Cory threw himself impatiently into the chair next to mine and grabbed my hand just as suddenly. I brought our hands up to my face and kissed his. His fingers were stroking mine with a nervous air. Just then the doctor opened the door and snuck out of the room seemingly on tip toe, closing it quietly behind him. Cory was already standing up again, as if he'd thrown himself into the standing position as quickly as he'd exasperatedly thrown himself into the chair not half a minute ago. I shook my head fighting a grin that didn't make sense under the circumstances; it's just that Cory's so cute when he's uneasy, which he always seems to be. I stood up more gracefully than my husband and intertwined my fingers with his.

"So?" Cory said, "What's the story doc? What's going on?"

The doctor smirked at us with obvious humor.

"I have to say, Shawn's mental progress is greatly improving every second he's awake. From the conversation I observed, it seems that at first he barely had any memory at all, but at the slightest bit of coaxing and reminding his memory is able to come flooding back like water out of a breached dam. Here's Shawn's half of the conversation with Ms. Moore. He's writing because he can't talk just yet due to the recently removed breathing tube."

He handed us a piece of legal pad paper with Shawn's familiar scrawl written on it. A wave of emotion hit me and my eyes teared up, but I stopped the tears from falling before I got carried away.

"So he's okay?" Cory asked incredulously, "He's going to be okay and remember us?"

"Well the official tests haven't been performed, but I honestly believe that yes, he'll be at least ninety-nine percent himself at the end of this… But there is something else I wanted to ask." Cory's arm casually went around my waist and I felt him hug me as his face drooped a bit in loss of excitement. But the doctor grinned unexpectedly, a glint in his eye.

"Have they always been this…shall I say - clingy?"

Cory burst out laughing as I sputtered incredulously, "They're making out in there, aren't they?!"

Cory added his own,, "That a'boy Shawnie! Nothing can stop _him_ from wooing a lady. He's still got it!" Then he burst into a fit of giggles. I was laughing pretty erratically too.

"So that's normal behavior then?" Doctor Kale asked, a wide smile on his face as he shared in our joke from the outside of the loop.

"Doc, if you mean is it normal for them to be super-glued together by the lips, then the answer is yes. All the time. Constantly. The day I hear either one of them say they didn't make out with the other one that hour I'll bring 'em back here for the psych ward to look after." Cory was nudging the doctor with his eyebrows raised.

Doctor Kale chuckled, "Alright, well I thought I'd leave them alone to be reacquainted, then I'd send both of you in. Seeing as he does not seem very disoriented, I think you can all be in there at the same time. But if he does seem to get overwhelmed be ready to leave the roomto give him a breather at least for a little bit." Cory nodded but I made a mental note to drag him out by the collar if I had to.

_So he was fine. _I gave Cory a meaningful look, and catching my eye I think he caught my train of thought as well. He nodded, still smiling. It was infectious.

After another few minutes for the couple to make up for lost time Dr. Kale knocked on the door, Cory and I hot on his heels.

Sure enough once the door opened we found Angela sitting on the edge of Shawn's bed, one hand clutching the back of Shawn's bandaged head, the other holding onto the metal bed frame to keep her balance. Shawn meanwhile had his good hand locked firmly behind Angela's neck. Neither one of them regarded the knock, they just kept their eyes shut and mouths passionately moving as if one of them only had a moment left to live.

"Shawnie?" Cory murmured as if he didn't believe his own word. Usually he would quip something humorous like, _"Hi, how's it going." _to quell the happy couple into embarrassment, but I think all of us realized the delicateness of the situation. After going that long without him, and worrying that much over him, the first thing Cory would say to Shawn would have to be something mushy and questionable of his masculinity… Unless you know Cory as well as I do. When it comes down to it, especially in the bedroom, there is _no_ question about his sexuality. It didn't matter what kind of bogus things he'd ever said to his best friend, there was no way Cory Matthews could do exactly what he does without being straight. I smirked inwardly at the thought, almost blushing.

Meanwhile at my husband's softly uttered word both Shawn and Angela seemed to realize that we were there and broke apart simultaneously. Angela took a step back blushing, but unmistakably happy with herself. Shawn meanwhile turned his attention to one person in the room and beamed. He grabbed a pen and scribbled down one word in giant letters, holding up the legal pad excitedly.

_CORY!!!_

Then Shawn threw the pad down on his lap and thrust his arm out, silently mouthing Cory's name. His facial expression was exactly that of when they were little and would burst into a victory dance for something or another. They had a whole choreographed routine for it too.

And with that Cory was across the room and hugging his best friend, who appeared to be trying to squeeze the life out of him with his good arm.

"You have no idea how much I missed you buddy." Cory whispered almost inaudibly. His voice broke when he said it and his eyes were watering when he took a step back. Shawn nodded.

"Shawn?" I said, a little uneasily. I felt like I was being forgotten in the back of the room, but at the same time I wanted the boys to have their moment. He flipped the page then wrote again.

_Topanga! Get over here and hug me!_

His chin went down in a smirk and he used one finger to beckon me. I giggled as I walked across the room. I hoped this wasn't a dream. But when I got there he really hugged me, and it was unbelievable to feel his arm around me with vigor after days of watching his lifeless body. He rubbed his hand across my back a few times. By the time I stepped back I was amazed to find myself crying - wasn't I laughing a moment ago?

"Don't you ever scare us like that again." I said shakily pointing a finger at him and wiping my eyes.

_No promises. Doesn't everyone like being struck down by rampaging trucks?_ He wrote.

I wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing or hit him. I settled for shaking my head in frustration and kissing him on the cheek.

For the rest of the night, we all pulled up chairs and started reminiscing. Doctor Kale suggested it, to try and renew any lost memories. He'd almost described it as a chore. He'd said to, "Pick through each year of your life and try to come up with as many events involving Shawn as possible for each person, then just talk through each one." It was uncanny how much it resembled some sort of Feeny assignment in description. But once we got going none of us could stop laughing. I never realized how many stories we had before. And we also realized how holey Shawn's memory was. Every few stories he wouldn't know what was going on, asking a question because he had no idea what we were talking about, but after a sentence or two it would come flooding back. It must be a weird sensation.

It was during a recent story about Angela's father that Shawn looked at me with wide eyes and panic on his face. Cory was going on and on abut the ROTC thing and Angela was giggling, only I noticed.

"Shawn? What?" I said giving him a weird look in return. Cory stopped abruptly as all eyes turned to Shawn. He quelled under the sudden attention, bringing a smile to his face forcibly, but again, I was the only one to notice.

_Nothing. Just another memory I suddenly remembered. That's all - it's a little flustering having all of these coming at you at once._

Cory continued with his story, but Shawn kept eye contact with me for a few tense seconds more. Then he shook his head. And we fell back into the care-free happy flashbacks.

A few minutes later Shawn tapped me on the arm. "Yes?" I said, he looked really confused, he raised an eyebrow at me.

_Have we ever…Did we kiss at some point? Why do I remember making out with you?_

I burst out laughing and Cory's ears turned red. Angela muttered, "Oh Lord. Why would you open that topic up again?!" But Shawn still looked confused from one face to the next and I explained the story of the freshmen video. By the end of it he was laughing too.

"Is that the memory you had before?" I asked. His smile lessened a little bit, but noticing Angela's eyes he picked it back up again.

_Um.. no. Hey tell me about - _

And with that we talked the rest of the night, recreating Shawn's memory status one block at a time. Finally Shawn started getting groggy on us and the doctor told us we should let him sleep. While Angela was talking to the doctor Shawn hurriedly scrawled something down on a piece of paper ripping it off and handing it to me as discreetly as possible.

_Come back after Angela leaves. I have something important to ask you._

I crumpled up the paper and nodded meaningfully at him, just before Angela came back in. Shawn already had the seriousness wiped off his face as he kissed her goodnight.

I casually dropped my purse under the bed. No one noticed. I left it there as everyone headed for the doors and started for the parking lot. I strategically waited until just as the elevator doors opened to exclaim, "Oh no! I think I left my purse in the room. Hold on, I'll meet you two at the car." And with that I turned around and headed back to 715. "Okay." Cory said. Just as I rounded the corner I heard the elevator close behind me.

"I left my purse." I said sheepishly to a surprised Doctor Kale in the hallway who'd obviously thought I'd left already. "It'll only take a minute." And with that I opened the door to 715.

Shawn looked around my shoulder as I came in.

"It's ok. They went to the car already. Shawn what's wrong?"

He started writing fervently.

_The memory I got before. It was of you and me, buying a ring. An engagement ring. It was for Angela. But where is it? Does she know? I don't remember if I told her already or how I was planning to, all I remember is buying the ring and you being there with me - please remind me. It's been driving me insane." _He looked at me pleadingly, his blue eyes begging. Obviously this had been eating away at him since the half-memory returned to him.

I explained everything. Buying the ring, bringing it home, hiding it. How Cory and i rehid it later when Angela came home. And I went through the final plans we'd talked through of how he would ask her. He'd come to me for feminine help and together we had created a romantic plan that would make any girl swoon.

By the time I was done speaking he was nodding excitedly, a whole new light in his eyes.

_Ok. I remember now. Thank you, so much. I feel a heck of a lot better now. _

I smiled at him and kissed his cheek again, "Don't worry about. I'm just so glad you're awake to hear me out. Goodnight Shawn."

_Goodnight. _

He waved as I walked out of the room. I headed back toward the elevator, hoping I hadn't taken up too much time as to be suspicious. Angela still didn't know about the ring. But this particular forgotten memory triggered one in my own mind. A forgotten obligation that Cory and I had forgotten to do because we'd become too lost down memory lane. I would have to remind him later. Shawn was well enough to handle what we'd been hiding, and it was such a happy truth.

I went home and had a long talk with Cory and a decision was made. I told him why I'd really "accidentally" forgotten my purse, and I told him what Shawn had said. I fell asleep laying on his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. The next day all of us returned to Shawn's room ready to continue on with the pleasant memory reminder session. But unbeknownst to everybody Cory and I were going to steal the stage first.

"Shawn. Angela. We need to talk to you both about something." Cory started, "In light of Shawnie here finally deciding to grace us with his mental presence - we just want to tell you both that we love you guys as our best friends in the world." Angela's face turned sentimental as she said meaningfully, "Aw. That's sweet."

I continued, "And it's true. Of everyone in the entire world we trust you, both of you, with our lives and with much, _much_ more. And, uh, we have something to ask you both. Cory." I gestured to him unable to keep the grin off my face. He folded his arms around me hugging me to his chest. His head rested on my shoulder and his hand came down to rest on my stomach.

"How would.. you two..." He drew out the sentence for dramatic effect, I giggled, "...like to be godparents?" Cory asked, as if trying to be nonchalant but not succeeding.

Both their jaws dropped. I giggled.

"What!!!" Angela screamed after a moment's silence. Then she literally shrieked and threw herself at me. Shawn started mumbling something excitedly, but then got too frstrated with his lack of voice and picked up his legal pad scribbling huge words filling the entire page;

_NO WAY!! _

Angela was still screaming and hugging me as we danced around the room, meanwhile Cory walked over to Shawn and said seeping with pride, "Yup. Topanga's pregnant."

I'd never seen anyone literally jump while laying in a hospital bed, but there is no other word to describe the overly enthusiastic movement Shawn made. Then he scrawled excitedly.

_CONGRATULATIONS!_

He yanked at Cory's knee nearly knocking him over until he had him in a hug as well.

"So" I said, pulling Angela off of me and holding her at arm's length. "What do you think? Godparents, or not?"

Shawn looked at Angela with dual excitement in both pairs of eyes.

"Of course we will! We'd be honored!" Angela stated, laughing as she said it. Shawn nodded fervently while she did, his whole face lit up.

What a wonderful day.

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_Alright. Sorry the update took so long, but I was on vacation without a computer in sight. So… Did ya see that coming? Or was I sneaky enough? Teehee. That's what I'd meant last chapter with the whole - "Cory you have your best man back." As in "Cory - we have our intended godfather woken up." Teehee. This was a fun chapter to write. Hope you like. Please review. :__J_


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